You're Not Fine
by Blue Zombie
Summary: Johnny has a seizure and is brought to the hospital. Topics of this story include abuse and suicide.
1. Chapter 1

I guessed I was missing my parents. I sat on my porch, smoking, just sitting there, thinking about how they were gone. It seemed unreal in one way but then it seemed like they had never existed at all, like it had always been just me and Soda and Darry on our own. They were both at work. They both worked all the time and still we were behind on the bills. I knew I was no help, but they both wanted me to concentrate on school.

I sighed, let the smoke out in one long stream. The sky was an unrelenting blue. I was bored, restless and edgy. I had a mountain of homework to do but I wasn't doing it. I was ignoring it. I'd get to it. It was real easy for me, anyway. I didn't think even Darry knew how easy school was for me, even though I got put up a grade. I just got it, I remembered everything I read. College, if we could somehow afford it, would be a breeze. I knew I was kind of lucky in this way.

I watched Johnny come toward me from his house, and I guess I had heard the yelling coming from that direction. That would be his mother screaming her head off at him. Johnny was always in trouble at home. If his mother wasn't yelling at him then his old man was beating him, or they were too drunk to bother with him at all.

I looked at him, noticing his dark hair and eyes, the way he looked down. Johnny was so quiet, so wounded all the time. I guess living in the conditions that he did made him that way. But I was glad to see him because I was sick of thinking about my parents and college and my life. It was easier to think about somebody else's life for awhile. And as he got closer I could see the bruise around his eye, the way he guarded one side. So he was probably knocked around some today. At least my life wasn't like that. Wouldn't Johnny kill to have my life?

"Hey, man," I said, lighting up another cigarette, noticing how his eye was swelling shut, "what the hell happened to you?"

He sat down next to me carefully. He still winced. Jesus, he was in a lot of pain. It must have been bad. I could imagine. I'd seen his old man get pissed at him.

"Nothing. My old man, you know,"

I nodded. There was nothing we could do about it, any of us. He'd avoid his house for awhile now. He'd sleep outside. But I'd tell him to sleep at our house.

If I wanted to I could tell Johnny about missing my parents and feeling empty, wanting something more. He'd understand, and more than that, he'd listen. Johnny listened to people like no one else, he really cared. So many other people hardly listened to you at all or seemed to be waiting for you to stop talking so they could start. With other people you could never get around to saying what you really meant about something, partly because it seems they just don't give a shit. I wanted to be like that, like he was, but I wasn't, I knew it. I didn't really listen to people all the time.

I wondered what it would be like to be Johnny. I'd never been hit by a family member in my life. But I knew what had happened to Johnny. He got whipped with a two by four one time. He got slammed against walls, thrown to the ground, punched, kicked, hit with a belt. The bruises I'd seen on him, man. It was unbelievable. And school. Johnny got left back last year, he could hardly read. He could read, but when he read out loud it was slow and halting and he got a lot of the words wrong. He struggled with it so much. I sometimes wondered if it had to do with being abused. Maybe he just couldn't concentrate on school.

"Stay at my house tonight," I told him, not giving him a choice. He didn't tend to argue. So he nodded. I looked at him. He looked hurt because of the black eye, but he also looked sick.

"I'm gonna puke," he said, and he leaned over and puked all over the side of the porch. I stood up and took a step away. He stopped after awhile, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. I didn't realize then that his nausea and dizziness was caused by getting punched in the head. He had a concussion. I should have told him to go to the hospital, or brought him there, but we hardly ever went there. He seemed fine except for puking.

"Jesus, Johnny, are you sick, too?"

He still looked green, like he was on a boat or something that was rocking violently on the waves.

"Yeah, I don't know, I feel awful,"

He kind of swayed where he was sitting on the porch and I thought he might pass out or something. I was getting kind of worried about him. He just didn't look right.

"C'mon, let's go inside," I said, and I kind of dragged him into the house, trying not to hurt him anymore than he already was, and he groaned when I put my arm around his waist and leaned against his ribs. I got him to the couch and just sat him down there, and looked sort of out of it.

"I feel weird…" he said in this funny distant voice, and then he kind of fell back onto the couch and started convulsing, these full body movements, his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and I just stared. I went over to him, feeling helpless, not knowing what to do. After about three minutes it stopped, he was just laying there and twitching a little, his eyes closed.

"Johnny?" I said, all worried. He opened his eyes and looked at me without seeming to know who I was, and he didn't answer me. His eyes closed and I said his name again all frantic, shaking him a little.

"Johnny? Answer me, Johnny,"

He opened his eyes again when I shook him but he didn't answer.

I had to call someone and get him to a hospital. I went to the phone and dialed the number of the DX station where Soda worked. Darry was out roofing houses and I didn't know where, I couldn't call him.

"DX," Steve said, and I heard the clang of tools and cars revving their engines and people talking.

"Steve, it's Ponyboy. Let me talk to Soda,"

"What is it? We're at work, you know,"

"I know, just, let me talk to him," I was looking at Johnny, who was laying still now and his eyes were closed. He was breathing, though, I could see the rise and fall of his chest.

"Hi," It was Soda, and I felt so relieved to hear his voice I could have cried.

"Soda, listen, I think Johnny had a seizure or something, he's not doing too well. He needs to go to the hospital, I think. Can you drive us?"

"What? Jesus, Ponyboy…hold on," He put the phone down and I heard him talking and it seemed like an eternity before he came back on.

"Yeah," he said, "okay, I'll be right there,"

I sighed in relief. Help was on the way. I went over to Johnny, feeling scared. I shook him gently and he opened his eyes again, and he seemed to recognize me this time.

"Johnny? Johnny?" I said, still shaking him.

"Yeah?" he said, his voice so soft.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah…I just feel a little…scrambled…" He turned away from me, closing his eyes again.

"You had a seizure or something," I told him, and he turned back to me, his eyes just barely open, but I saw uncertainty and fear in them just the same.

"Huh? I did? I don't remember it,"

I licked my lips, watching him closely, afraid it would happen again.

"Yeah, so Soda's coming and we're bringing you to the hospital,"

This got to him, and he sat up a little and shook his head.

"No, I'm fine now,"

"You don't even remember it…you…you're not fine. You need to go to the hospital, God, Johnny," I said, still feeling the adrenaline and fear from that. I thought he was gonna die right on the couch. It occurred to me how little Johnny actually cared about himself. He's told me plenty of times that he wishes he could kill himself.

I didn't say anything more, and he was kind of falling asleep now anyway. He was pretty out of it. We'd bring him to the hospital whether he liked it or not.


	2. Chapter 2

Johnny had fallen asleep again, and I was watching him closely, afraid he'd have another seizure. But he didn't, he just slept on the couch. I was also looking out for Soda. It didn't take him too long to pull up in Steve's beaten down old chevy. Darry had our car.

I looked back at Johnny, his breathing easy. I heard the car stop and the door open, that creak of the old hinges, and I heard Soda's footsteps on the walk. I felt relief already that Soda was here. Now it wasn't just me responsible for Johnny.

He came in, glanced at me and then beyond me at Johnny.

"What happened?" Soda said, going right over to him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Soda had no fear. I remembered how he had been the one to talk to Johnny and to hold him when we found him all bloody in the lot.

"He puked, and then he said he didn't feel good, and then in here he just started convulsing, like a seizure,"

My eyes were wide and I looked to Soda to know what to do. It was funny, really, because I was supposed to be the smart one, but being smart in school rarely translated to being smart in life. Soda was a lot smarter when it came to practical things than I was. I wondered if Soda could see that?

"Johnny?" he said, and Johnny moaned and turned away, but Soda was persistent. He shook him gently, like I had, and said his name again.

"Johnny? You okay, buddy?" Slowly Johnny opened his eyes and looked at Soda, and he shrugged and said he was fine.

"We gotta go to the hospital," Soda said, trying to get Johnny to sit up. But he was resisting. He was still sort of out of it from that seizure, I could tell. He would usually just do whatever you told him to, even if he didn't want to.

"Leave me alone, please, Soda," Johnny said, laying down and turning away from us. I looked at Soda, my eyes wide. At this point, if it was Darry, he would have just picked him up and carried him to the car. Enough was enough with Darry, but Soda was different.

"I know you don't feel real good, but we have to go to the hospital, it's serious," Soda said, his voice low. He saw the black eye Johnny had, he saw the bruises that were visible when his shirt would lift a little. He knew he'd been beaten pretty bad today. Maybe this seizure was related, we didn't know.

"C'mon," he said, tugging Johnny to his feet. I think he knew there was really no choice at this point, so he followed us out to the car.

Johnny hated hospitals, though, and he scowled in the back seat. I sat with him just in case. Soda drove a little fast but not too fast. This was better. Soda was here and we were on our way to the hospital. Everything would be fine.

Me and Johnny sat in the waiting room while Soda went up to the desk and explained the situation. Johnny was dozing, his head resting on my shoulder, and I kept my eye on him. He seemed okay, just real tired. Soda came back and sat near us, and I looked around at everyone else in here.

It seemed to take forever for them to call his name but they finally did, and I shook Johnny awake when I heard his name.

"Go," I told him, thinking maybe one of us should go with him. He didn't even remember it. And what would he say about all those bruises and the black eye? He wouldn't rat out his parents, his old man. It was more trouble than it was worth, but probably nothing would happen anyway. He went up to the desk and the receptionist lady told him where to go, and he disappeared into the ER.


End file.
